Not Merely a Metaphor
by Eternal Density
Summary: Walter wishes he could have stayed in bed. Then he wishes he DID stay in bed. Or, at least, that he had not chosen an apple for breakfast. Now a series of short Walter fics, some at 'WormCon2008 with a little bit of Sanctuary crossover. Now back at SGC.
1. An Apple a Day

Not Merely a Metaphor

Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman shuffled blearily into the commissary, feeling at least three-quarters asleep. Needing something easy to eat in his diminished capacity, he almost sleepwalked towards a fruit bowl and clumsily grabbed at an apple. What he really needed was coffee, but he needed to be a little more awake to be able to drink without spilling it.

He headed unsteadily to the exit of the commissary, shaking his head to clear some of the cobwebs. As he raised the red fruit to his mouth, his eyes told him something was wrong. Several blinks later, he realised that an earthworm had beat him to the first bite. This meant something important, he was certain of it.

Gears began to turn in Walter's head, but not necessarily the right ones. His sleepy synapses made convoluted connections, leading to a conclusion which only seemed logical at 0-dark-hundred. Something clicked, and a light labelled 'panic' lit up in his head.

And that was why everyone in the commissary that morning heard Walter spontaneously yell, "Unauthorised incoming wormhole!"


	2. Camera Obscura

Frank looked down at his camera, and then back up at his house. He was trying to sell the place and move into something larger, but couldn't place an advert until he successfully took a photograph. So far, all he had produced was black.

Being fully focussed on the uncooperative device, he did not hear his neighbour's car arrive. The first sign that he was not alone was a friendly call of, "Hey, Frank. Need a hand?"

"Oh, hi Walter. I can't get anything but black from this camera," Frank explained.

Walter took a quick glance at the gadget. "I think I see the problem, and it's right up my alley."

"I didn't know you were into cameras," responded a surprised Frank.

"Not really, but I know enough to determine that you need to… open the iris." The technician's eyes lit up with mirth.

Frank blinked. "Are you alright?" Walter looked like he had said the funniest thing ever and was holding back a fit of giggles.

"Uh, it's, uh, classified. I'd better go." Walter fled the scene.

"If you say so. Thanks for helping," Frank replied to his neighbour's departing back.


	3. MY Cell has Chevrons!

Beep!

"Chevron one encoded."

Bleep!

"Chevron two encoded."

Boop!

"Chevron three encoded."

Beep!

"Chevron four encoded."

Bloop!

"Chev..."

"Walter? What on Earth are you doing?" Siler interrupted.

"Huh? Oh, I'm just calling my wife."

"Haven't you heard of _speed dial_?"

Walter shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Siler rolled his eyes. "Whatever floats your boat, pal. Carry on." He fled from the room, muttering, "Now that's just weird. Guy needs a vacation."


	4. Walter's Day Off

**Whoosh!**

Walter Harriman waited until a safe number of seconds had passed. "You may proceed," he said, adding a friendly nod.

The next person on the ramp proceeded into The Wormhole.

"Godspeed," Walter whispered as the kid vanished into the rippling water.

Volunteering to help out at the local water park on his day off was a great idea, but General Landry had obviously not checked the names of the rides before making the suggestion.


	5. Remembering Wheeler

April 14, 2008

Colonel Carter stepped out of the Stargate onto the ramp, following a team of recent recruits she had taken to the Alpha Site for a few days.

"Wormhole disengaged," Walter announced in an audibly melancholy tone.

Later, when she had a free moment, Sam found the Chief Master Sergeant in the control room and asked him what was wrong.

"Wheeler passed away yesterday," he explained sadly. "Pneumonia."

General Landry happened to enter the room and overheard the end of the conversation. "Who's this Wheeler?" he asked.

Walter and Sam explained.

-

A few minutes later, Walter's subdued voice was heard over the base-wide intercom. "Attention all staff. By order of General Landry, we will observe a minute's silence in memory of Doctor John A. Wheeler, who passed away yesterday due to pneumonia, aged 96. Wheeler was responsible for coining the term 'wormhole'. Thank you for your attention."

-

The mood in the SGC was somber for the remainder of the day.

-

-

-

"This analysis forces one to consider situations...where there is a net flux of lines of force through what topologists would call a handle of the multiply-connected space and what physicists might perhaps be excused for more vividly terming a 'wormhole'."

– John Wheeler in _Annals of Physics_


	6. Conventional

Walter walked up to the registration desk, glad to see that the waiting lines had already cleared.

"Good morning, and welcome to WormCon 2008. Your name, sir?" asked the familiar-looking registrar.

"You don't have to call me 'sir'; I'm not an officer. Oh, name. Walter Harriman."

The man behind the desk entered the name into a computer, and hummed affirmatively. "Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman? For real?"

"That's my name," Walter assured him.

The man handed over a bag of convention materials and a name badge, designed to vaguely imitate a military security ID. "You wouldn't happen to be a fan of..."

"Your character, Chief Master Sergeant William Baldman? As a matter of fact, I am. I didn't expect to see you at the registration desk though. It does sort of make sense, however," Walter reasoned.

"And they've made me MC some of the panels. Just because I'm only a secondary character."

"Tertiary character, Ted," yelled Martin Lloyd from somewhere in the vicinity.

"My name's Ned!" the actor yelled back, sounding rather frustrated. "Anyhow, here I am, and here you are, with a fairly similar sounding name."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think they based your character on me," Walter 'joked', knowing that they had.

Ned laughed. "Except that William Baldman gets to control the gateway between Earth and other planets, while you... what _do _you do?"

"I'm stationed in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs. I look after a General," Walter 'explained'.

"NORAD, eh?"

"That's right. Deep Space Telemetry and other classified things," Walter answered vaguely.

"That's not so bad. Ever communicate with aliens?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Walter answered with a grin of amusement.

"Right, right. I'll see you around." He watched as Walter vanished into the crowd. "I bet his job is more fun than mine," he muttered as he waited for the next convention-goer.


	7. Unconventional Game

In the sea of listeners which formed the audience, a few dozen fans held specially-printed sheets of paper, handed out by Walter himself.

"...so there we were on the set, chasing down some fat blue aliens - or was it purple that week? - and I was running low and firing wildly - cos it's what I do - when I tripped on a rock - Styrofoam painted green - and my gun went flying and knocked over one of the lights which startled one of the gaffers who knocked over the Star Portal. So everyone was yelling' ************************************** you Nick!' So I picked myself up from the ground and shouted back '******************************************* you all with ********************************* and a **************************************************************** until **************************************************************************!' And then one smart guy says 'Maybe for this episode we should have a planet made of **************************************** smooth concrete and have the **************************************************** portal horizontal.' So of course I said, 'I could get behind _that_!'"

The players in the audience frantically marked their playing grids, and two jumped up from their seats with a cry of, "BINGO!"

Walter jotted down the winner's name with a grin, so he could award a prize later. Catch-phrase Bingo was fun!


	8. Shelter to Any

Another WormCon2008 ficlet! This one's a bit different...

-

Walter stood against the wall and watched the churning sea of humanity - humanity wearing all manner of costumes and disguised as various tacky alien creatures. He examined them critically, deciding which ones would be worthy of an open or closed iris if they were real. It was hard to decide, as sometimes the most hideous things are your friends, and the most beautiful things are your enemies.

"Amazing, isn't it," commented an English voice to his left.

He turned to see the speaker. On the topic of beauty... she was a tall brunette, with features which seemed somehow familiar. "What's amazing, Ma'am?"

"The way people mimic the things they fear. If such creatures actually walked among us, the convention hall would soon be empty," the woman said pleasantly.

"If anyone noticed. If any alien creatures walked into this room, no one would blink - they'd think it was just another costume, or special effect," Walter argued.

He seemed to have said exactly what she was hoping, as she smiled widely, reminding him of a certain blonde astrophysicist. "You are absolutely correct. The human mind can only see what it understands. Everything unknown is interpreted in terms of the known."

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if somewhere on Earth there are aliens who look similar enough to humans that no once notices the difference," Walter suggested knowingly.

The brunette shrugged. "Who knows? Not everything strange has to come from outside. Earth has plenty of abnormality of its own. Very few choose to see it."

"Abnormality?" Walter questioned, not quite sure what she was saying.

"Mutations, or traits which are rarely seen and mostly forgotten. Beings that don't fit the societal definition of 'human.' Things that science missed, and are only known from legend, unless someone finds and studies them."

She'd said it very hypothetically, but Walter wasn't sure whether she was speaking from fancy or from experience. "Here, at the convention?" he asked.

The woman eyed the crowd critically. "Perhaps. One never knows what may be found."

"True," Walter agreed skeptically. The sentiment applied to his own job, but he preferred to think of his own planet as 'normal'. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I saw the way you were examining the crowd, as if you were categorising the crowd."

"Oh, I didn't realise I was so obvious. And thanks, I think."

"You're welcome, Mr Harriman." She'd obviously read his nametag.

"Please, call me Walter, Ma'am."

"Then you must call me Helen."

-

Endnote: yup, it's a crossover :D

Next: technobabble talk with 'Major Stacey Monroe'


	9. Technobabble

Note: wow, I can't believe this became so long!

-

Walter seemed to be having a 'brunette day'. He'd just walked into a small run-down bar, hoping it had escaped the flood of 'Wormies'. While he considered himself a fan, he wanted to eat in a more peaceful setting, so here he was. At an empty table in the far corner was the brunette. She too was familiar, but this time he could put a name to the face - Yolanda Reese. After collecting a beer, fish which had more batter than fish, and a plate of rather soggy chips, he sat down opposite her. "Good evening," he said pleasantly.

"Hi," she said, bemused. "And who might you be?"

"Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman, USAF," he reported snappily. "But everyone calls me Walter."

"What brings you to this little bar?" she wondered.

"Probably the same thing as you - escape from noisy convention-goers."

"Oh, you're here for Worm-con. I guess you must know who I am then," she realised.

"That's right, Miss Reese."

"Please, call me Landa, Walter."

"As you wish, Landa."

The actress smiled. "Which is your favourite character, Walter?"

"That would be William Baldman. I see a lot of myself in him."

"I suppose it must be interesting to see someone with your rank in a fictional setting, and consider what your life might be like if the world was significantly weirder."

"Interesting, yes. Do you think that there could be life out there, Landa?"

"Nah, sometimes I doubt there's intelligence on _Earth_. SETI is such a waste of money."

Walter nodded. "I can't disagree with you there. Some days I wish they would shut the whole thing down." He feared the day someone figured out how to receive subspace signals.

"Actually, what _is _your job like? I don't know a lot about people in the _real _military."

"Paperwork, rules, regulations, more paperwork, keeping the base running smoothly and generals happy, and even more paperwork. And pushing buttons to open and close entrances to secure areas." True, in a manner of speaking.

"I can see why you'd like to watch Baldman. Where are you, um, stationed?"

"Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs."

"Must be cold, working up on a mountain."

"Actually, I work deep inside the mountain."

"Whatever for?"

"Apparently that's the best place to do analysis of deep space radar telemetry, among other things."

"Oh. does that mean you look out for asteroids and such which might hit Earth?"

Walter nodded.

"What about Apophis?"

Walter was exceedingly glad his mouth was empty. If he had been drinking or chewing, the result would not have been pretty "Pardon?" he managed to say.

"The asteroid, 99942 Apophis. I read an article about it the other month."

"Oh, right. I can assure you we'll deal with Apophis if he - er, it - ever appears to be a threat to Earth." Fortunately, Apophis was quite dead, so the chance of him ever being a threat was zero. Unless alternate realities or time travel were involved. Uh oh...

"What do you think of my character?" Landa asked, changing topics.

"Stacey Monroe? She's... she's a good character, but I'm not sure if the writers know what to do with her."

"Yeah, I feel the same. It's like she's on the team to provide miracle fixes to alien gadgets, and sometimes help shoot things."

"And to look good while doing it, of course."

Landa smiled wryly. "Thanks, I think."

Walter chuckled. "What really bothers me is that the writers don't put any thought into the science. Sure, it's science fiction, but it should at least appear to make sense. I know the show isn't meant to be very serious, with all those weird aliens with funny-coloured skin and strange clothes, but... does it all have to be so random?"

"You're right. 'Technobabble' isn't an empty label. I mean, why does centering the epsilon beams prevent simple harmonic feedback and nullify the inertial phase lock?"

"You're right, it would be much better if they had you say, 'I need to adjust the alien laser grid to shield against the tractor beam.' What's the point in a nonsensical explanation?"

Landa blinked. "You.... you're right! Uh... what about this one: 'The gluonic resonator thermodynamic feedthrough has gone sub-optimal, causing a hyper-energetic time-varient potential-buildup which requires immediate core-quenching to pre-empt a catastrophic flux-discharge."

"Wow, that's a lot of hyphens! Hmm, that basically means, 'We need to turn off this generator before it blows up in our faces because the cooling system is broken."

"How did you do that?" Landa was very impressed.

Walter shrugged. "I hear a lot of scientists talking. You get used to it after a while."

"Really?"

"Really. It's self-preservation."

"Oh. Got any good show ideas?"

"Well, painting people bright colours doesn't make for good aliens. Either have them human, or non-human, but the 'colour of the week' thing just doesn't work."

"You've got a point there. Martin Lloyd wouldn't know a decent alien even if it was... his mother."

Walter laughed nervously. "I've got another idea. You'd think the military would be sick of having to shoot up aliens who chase WH-1 back to Earth. They should have a barrier to stop them from getting through."

"You mean like a force field?"

"No, no, definitely not a force field. Force fields are overrated. And they can lose power at the worse possible moment. Hypothetically speaking, of course. No, what you want is a metal shield."

"Like a porthole cover? That would just look weird and get in the way. Very impractical, I think."

"No, no, like the iris on a camera. See?"

"Yes, that might work. But wouldn't someone need to open and close it?"

"Yeah, Baldman could do that. It would be a nice change from ringing up wormholes all the time. Maybe it would give him some new lines."

"Hmm, you're right, that's a good idea. I'll mention it to the writers. But what would happen to the aliens when it's closed? If they tried to get through."

"Use your imagination."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Listen, Landa, it's been great talking with you, but I'd better be getting back to my hotel. It's a busy day tomorrow."

"Right. Same here. But before we leave, I've got one more question."

Walter nodded. "Shoot."

"Has anyone come up with an explanation for why people don't fall through the floor when they're out of phase?"

"Um... sorry, I'll have to get back to you on that one."

-

Another Note: I'm thinking of having another Sanctuary crossover. What say ye?


	10. Somewhere Covered in Rainbow

Walter was waiting in line to buy a miniature Trans-Vibe-Photo-Phaser (or Hyphen Gun, as some called it) when it happened. A sudden motion on the edge of his vision caught his attention. He turned and saw a young blonde woman weaving fluidly through the dense crowd. Somehow she was able to find a way forward despite the ephemeral nature of gaps between convention-goers. He immediately noted that she was sporting a black jacket and carrying... he assumed it was a prop. Hoped it was a prop, although he couldn't place what episode it was from. Actually, the weapon was completely unfamiliar, which meant it was either a fan-made toy or an alien weapon the SGC had not encountered. The second option was easily dismissed.

His opinion changed when she brought the weapon into a firing position. He was afraid something very bad was about to happen. Much to his relief, there were no sudden explosions or whirring sounds, but merely a stream of black fluid. The squirt of liquid splattered a costumed figure on the shoulder, which apparently was not the girl's intent. Her frustrated gestures spoke volumes.

The paint - or was it ink? - splattered fan whirled around to see who had targeted him, giving Walter a look at the front of the costume. It was like a skeleton - a seven foot skeleton that only generally resembled a human. The bones were far too thick, the teeth too long, and the fingers looked plain weird. Not to mention that the entire thing shimmered with rainbows like it was made of crazy prisms. Apart from the affected shoulder, which was matte black. Decidedly odd, and definitely not canon. Some fans went overboard with creativity, and he wasn't sure what the point was.

While he had been looking at the target - though he wasn't sure the hit was intended or accidental - the young woman had dropped to the ground and vanished through the multi-coloured sea of bodies. The paint-splattered skeleton shuffled in the general direction of her last known position, obviously realising the shot had come from behind. A few other fans who had received splatters of paint on their precious costumes were beginning to get annoyed as well. The kid standing behind him gave him a nudge, and he remembered to move forwards in the queue. His attention stayed on the crowd, so he quickly spotted the gun-toting girl when she popped up from the floor a few feet away.

"I don't think you should be..." he called as she raised the paint-filled weapon. His words were ignored, as she rapidly sighted and fired at the rainbow-clad fan. The 'skeleton monster' happened to duck below the inky stream, causing it to blacken the faces and moods of several bystanders. Upon missing her target she said something very unladylike and ducked down again. This time her adversary spotted her and began to advance much faster. She ran while crouching low to the ground, pushed through the queue a few places in front of Walter, and vaulted over a display table. "Excuse me, but what are you doing?" he asked as she took up a firing position behind the table, which was one of several in a line parallel to the wall.

"Shhh!"

"You can't run around shooting paint at people!"

"Shut up and get down!"

"Huh?" Unlike most people would have, Walter ducked down at the same time as turning around to see the reason why. Rainbow-guy had decided to retaliate, and a gob of colour flew overhead and splashed the wall. Walter had never seen rainbow-coloured paint before. Such a thing shouldn't be possible. But before he could consider the matter any further, several rounds of black ink were returned, darkening several patches of the skeleton costume that had previously been bright with rainbows. The figure loomed closer, taking several shots to the torso, but avoiding being hit in the face. He made a throwing motion and another ball of colour flew in the girl's direction. Walter couldn't see behind the table, but a few seconds later she leaped over a table several tables to the right. Her feet and lower legs were splashed with shimmering colours, and she was already preparing to fire.

The skeleton dodged two out of six shots, threw one in return, and finally took one to the head. Walter found himself wiping black splatters off his face, and as he finished doing so, he realised that the ribcage of the skeleton was empty. He hadn't been able to see it clearly when it was shimmering with rainbow patterns. This was not a costume containing a human, he realised with a sinking feeling. No one else seemed to notice, as they were either ignoring the spectacle, amused by the paint fight, or annoyed by the collateral damage to their costumes and belongings. A few security guards were moving into the area, shouting orders to stop.

Walter backed away from the creature which was flailing blindly. After a few seconds it rubbed its 'hands' over its face, smearing rainbow colours back over it. This seemed to restore its vision, as it again began to move towards the blonde. She had taken advantage of the distraction and was again weaving through the crowd to a new position. The skeletal being seemed unwilling to shoot into the middle of the crowd, and instead tried to catch up to the black-and-rainbow-jacketed girl. The crowd willingly parted to let it pass, not wanting to get in the way of the tall fellow.

Quite unexpectedly, several shots of black hit the creature in the back. It stopped and began to turn, giving the young woman a chance to hit both its hands. "Well _done_, Ashley," he heard an English voice behind him. "That should keep it from re-colouring itself."

Walter was fairly sure he knew that voice. He turned, and was unsurprised to see Helen, the woman with whom he'd spoken about 'abnormality' yesterday. She was wearing clear protective goggles and carrying a weapon similar to the girl, who Walter guessed must be Ashley. He also noticed she was wearing a radio headset - obviously the only way to communicate across any distance in a noisy convention hall. Both women took several more shots, painting the skeleton completely black. It stopped forward motion and slowly slumped into a prone position.

Ashley punched the air and let out an audible whoop. "Game over!" Walter noticed that her hair and hands were streaked with shifting spectrums of colour. Obviously one of the final return shots had connected. He turned in time to see Helen smile in satisfaction and what he recognised as motherly pride. He heard Ashley begin talking at the top of her voice, and turned back to look at her and the... creature. "Show's over! We hope you all enjoyed watching! Sorry about the paint - it should wash off with water. Please stand back as we drag this guy out of here. That's all, folks!"

A spontaneous applause broke out as Ashley and Helen donned rubber gloves and began to drag the sedate skeleton to the closest exit. A wide streak of black paint with occasional splashes of colour was left on the otherwise grey concrete floor. The security guards finally reached them, and were reassured by Helen with what appeared to be a fistful of cash. Walter discreetly followed, and watched as the pair loaded the creature into the back of a large van. "I see you were speaking from experience yesterday, Helen," he said, once the non-human was secure. It was unwise to interrupt people while they were in the process of locking up something dangerous.

"I beg your pardon?" Helen answered.

"That 'rainbow skeleton' obviously isn't human."

"I told you someone would notice, Mom," Ashley interrupted.

"Hush," Helen told her. "You're right, Walter. The earth has in fact brought forth all manner of abnormal creatures, few of which are ever noticed."

"What do you call this one?"

"A Rainbow Skeleton, actually. They are extremely rare."

"Are they dangerous?"

"No, just messy. They can be stopped easily enough by covering up all the colour on their bodies."

"Yup, but it's pointless unless you take out the hands first," Ashley added. She'd accidentally touched her nose, and it too was rippling with a dazzlling array of colours.

Helen noticed too. "It's a good thing that diffractive paint is non-toxic."

"Does it clash with my jacket?"

"Horribly."

"Right, I'll go wash up."

Helen watched her go in amusement. "Seen any aliens lately, Walter?"

"Hundreds. They're everywhere," he jokingly answered.

"I meant that seriously."

"In my job, you never know what you'll see. Sometimes you don't even know what you're seeing," he vaguely replied.

Helen nodded. "You take care of the aliens, and I'll take care of the abnormals."

"It's a deal," Walter agreed. He put out his hand and Helen shook it.

Walter suddenly sensed danger and ducked. He heard two loud splats, and looked up to see a big black splash on the van where his head would have been.

Helen regretted prematurely removing her goggles.

-

Note: Wow, so long!

I believe it's time for Walter to head back to the SGC. Any requests?


	11. Ammunition

Chapter 11 – Ammunition

Note: all alphanumeric designations are utter fabrications, in accordance with rule RFF45b.91E.

Also, thanks goes to The Blue Raven for inspiration.

-

Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman was not experiencing a pleasant first day 'back in the mountain'. An important shipment of ammunition had experienced an 'unauthorized variance'. The resultant phone call went as follows.

"Hello, this is S..."

"Don't bother giving me your rank; you're about to lose it."

"Pardon?"

"This is Chief Master Sergeant Harriman, calling from..."

"The Black Hole."

"What was that?"

"We wonder whether there's a black hole somewhere under that mountain, since there's no way you could use most of the goods we ship you."

"What we do with our ammunition is our business. Yours is supplying it. I demand to know who is responsible for the contents of crates AM4AF2758R42N009b, AM4AF2758R42N009c, and AM4AF2758R42N010a."

"Uh... you'll need to fill out an RX44P for each..."

"I don't think so. We can't wait for you to get your act together. That ammunition should have been here twenty minutes ago. It was not. Fix this."

"What's the rush? Do you need it for your 'training exercises'?"

"That is correct. You'd better fix this, fast, or heads will roll."

"Are they Deep Space Telemetry training exercises, or the ones in which suspiciously large numbers of people die?"

"They are Deep Space Telemetry training exercises in which tragically large numbers of people might die if they don't have the necessary ammunition," Walter replied with all the disapproval he could muster.

"Oh really? I find that hard to believe. What could you people be doing in that mountain that needs so much ammo, and causes so many dead bodies to come out?"

"That is not for you to question. This is the USAF, not elementary school."

"Some of us wonder if you're actually fighting aliens."

"You do, do you? If that was the case, what did you think it was a good idea to send us 300 glowing 'Roswell Grey skeletons'? How exactly are we supposed to fight aliens with those?"

"Uh..."

"I have a feeling you last task before you're kicked out of the Force will be _sending me my ammo_!"

"Sure, whatever you say, Master Chief."

Walter groaned, and again wished he'd stayed in bed. He _so_ didn't need to deal with idiots like this.

-

A few minutes later, he checked his todo list to find it was time to place the next order for medical supplies. A scribbled notation mentioned that the demand for sleeping pills was up another 5 percent and he would need a reasonable-sounding justification. Joy.


	12. Up Too Late

Chapter 12 - Up Too Late

Note: Yep, it's another classic short!

-

Walter wearily dragged himself out of his car. It had been a long and hard day, and he was already dreading the next day. The cold air made him shiver as he stepped into his driveway and closed the car door. He pushed his key into the frosted lock and attempted to turn it, but it wouldn't go. Wiggling and changing the pressure didn't help - it simply wouldn't locate properly. His brain told him this meant something important, but his weariness and the numbing cold caused the process of making connections to be somewhat slowed. He wanted to get indoors and out of the cold, but couldn't until his car was safely locked.

He removed the key from the lock completely and blew into the hole, hoping this would help.

It didn't help at all, except to increase his frustration and worry.

Fortunately there was no one around to hear him exclaim, "Chevron will not lock!"


	13. Stress Relief

Chapter 13 - Stress Relief

Note: this started as a simple idea and kept growing and growing...

-

A familiar figure stepped through blue ripples. _"I will destroy your world, insolent Tau'ri!"_

Walter ordered the gate-room guards to open fire, and a bullet-riddled Ba'al dropped to the ramp.

A second figure, looking much like the first but wearing a different outfit, stepped forth and was immediately taken down by zat fire. Walter grinned, but the smile faded when the third Ba'al was unaffected. Two guards had fallen before Walter could instruct one of them to use a knife. This took down the invader handily, but the fourth was already emerging. The next thrown knife was blasted way by the Ba'al clone's hand device, and the fifth clone joined him a moment later.

Thinking quickly, Walter ordered for the release of a vial of symbiote poison into the gate-room. The two clones quickly collapsed in pain, followed by three more. In the meantime, Walter used the respite to send in two fresh defenders equipped with Felger's experimental beam weapon. As soon as they were in position, a trio of Ba'als stepped onto the ramp. The poison had cleared, so they continued down the ramp unharmed. According to Walter's plan, one of the remaining original guards fired a few shots at the intruders to determine whether they were protected by shields. One was not, and he was taken down by concentrated gunfire. The other two were removed by the beam weapon, which overloaded their shields and subsequently caused flesh wounds such as vaporization.

The trio was followed by four more - two with shields, and two without. One had time for a shot with his hand device and took down a gunner. Once the second shielded clone had fallen, the experimental weapon began to flash and make rather unhealthy sounds. Walter immediately had it thrown at the event horizon where it exploded, taking out three Ba'al clones and part of the ramp. The next four clones had to avoid the hole, giving enough time for zat fire and knockout darts to take them down.

When no further alien invaders appeared, Walter grew suspicious. He ordered a TER sweep, seconds before one of his defenders was thrown across the room by something unseen. The cloaked clone was soon spotted and blasted to little pieces. The TER was turned towards the Stargate just as a Ba'al stepped through, flanked by two cloaked companions. The invisible pair were quickly eradicated, and the middle one soon proved to have both a shield and the skills necessary to avoid slow projectiles. He soon found that his shield did not stop napalm.

The twenty-seventh Ba'al wore black supersoldier armour. Fortunately a basket was dropped on his head, causing him to trip into the hole in the ramp. This gave Walter time to have the trinium-diamond-fibre tipped stake launcher moved into position. As soon as the armoured Ba'al rose, his protective suit was neatly punctured. This treatment was applied to two more black-suited figures, but not before two leading invisible intruders were found and removed with the TER. If Walter hadn't thought to check, he might have wasted rare ammunition and given the super-Ba'als a chance to blast away most of his defenders.

Seizing a quite moment, Walter ordered a tripwire to be stretched in front of the Stargate. Evidently one of the former-Ba'als had radioed back to his fellow clones, as a ramp was flung out of the event horizon, covering the hole and incidentally making the tripwire quite ineffective. However, it was fortunate that the airmen who had placed the wire were still beside the ramp, as the next thing to issue forth was a Goa'uld shock grenade. At Walter's instruction they easily batted it back through the event horizon, which dematerialized it into oblivion. Then they were able to reset the tripwire just before a flood of twelve Ba'als burst forth, armed with zats and P90s which they had somehow acquired. Apparently the plan had been to overwhelm the defenders before they could successfully fight back, but the tripwire turned it into a tangled mess which was easily dealt with. The last of the group (the forty-first) was able to slice through the offending wire with a knife, leaving the way clear for the next wave, apart from the pile of bodies. Fortunately many of the ex-Ba'als had been obliterated by concentrated zat blasts.

Airmen were sent to retrieve some of the fallen weapons (namely those which were relatively clean). The forty-second Ba'al received a face-full of metal and electricity, but it didn't seem to faze him, as he quickly phased away the damage, revealing that he was in fact a Replicator. Two shielded clones exited behind him and flung tacluchnatagamuntorons to the floor, drawing much attention and fire from the defense team. The guards destroyed the remote weapons and concentrated on taking out the Ba'als which they could destroy, while avoiding the Replicator. The latter began to pass through the closed metal door, but by that time an ARW had been brought and he was reduced to a pile of metal dust.

Wondering for how long the invaders would blindly exit the wormhole, Walter ordered a small contingent of defenders to positions behind the 'gate. This turned out to be a wise move, as most of the others were obliterated by concentrated staff fire. Eight Ba'al clones stepped onto the ramp, with their staff weapons at the ready. They saw little to worry about - and were immediately cut down by a storm of gunfire from their six. As this was happening, Walter ordered a couple of fresh squads to be ready to enter the gateroom with new weapons as soon as the shooting had ceased.

Ten more clones quickly burst forth and began attacking with a variety of weapons. Four of these were not shielded and one of these was quickly felled by zats. By this time, a new weapon had charged, and it released an icy blast which froze the remaining three unshielded clones as well as four with regular shields. This left a supersoldier-Ba'al and a RepliBa'al, who were removed with the stake-launcher and ARW respectively. A TER sweep found two more attackers, which brought the total to sixty-four.

The next attempt was a lone supersoldier. The trinium-diamond-fibre tipped stake penetrated his armour just like for the other four, but he seemed to be unharmed. A shield was hastily put in place to guard against his wrist-blasters. This protected the defense team, but they were unable to damage the latest attacker. A second stake did not help, so Walter figured they might as well try the ARW. This helped a little, as a slight trickle of deactivated Replicator cells flowed out of the holes in the armour. A second firing resulted in a little more, but had no overall effect on the bulk of the RepliSuperBa'al, who had now passed through the shield and was inflicting heavy damage on the defenders.

Deciding killing the monstrosity would take too long, Walter had an airman clamp a device on the creature's back, which soon caused the creature to be transported to a place with a nice view down on Earth's atmosphere. Walter quickly looked through the available inventory items and wondered what he hadn't used yet. He found he could deploy an anti-Prior device, but there was no way he'd need that when all he was dealing with was variations on Ba'al clones.

Then again...

A robed Ba'al clone stepped out of the rippling event horizon. His face wore the white scars of a Prior, and he held a familiar type of staff. Not good at all. The remaining defenders began firing all they had, but the bullets fell to the ground before reaching their target, and everything else veered around the Prior. He activated his staff, and every weapon was ripped away from the one who held it and landed in a neat pile on the ramp. Seconds later, the viewing window began to crack. Walter was beginning to worry, when the anti-Prior device kicked in. Prior-Ba'al glared and picked up the closest machine-gun. Low on options, Walter had a bucket of paint emptied over the powerless Prior, followed by the empty bucket. This blinded and stunned him long enough for the guards to regroup and take him down.

What more could there be? Walter briefly entertained the thought of a Wraith-Ba'al, but that fit even less than a Prior, and wouldn't be much of a challenge.

This question was answered by the stargate which spat out a glowing comet which flew around the gateroom before condensing into a familiar goateed visage.

"Ascended Ba'al? You've got to be kidding m..."

GAME OVER

YOU HAVE A NEW HIGH SCORE!

"Not bad," Siler congratulated as Walter entered his name into the high score chart. "A high score, and you didn't even defeat the final boss."

"It's all about variety," Walter replied with a grin. "The points are in the bonuses, and I earned Poison Ba'al, Snow Ba'al, Fire Ba'al, Basket Ba'al, InvisiBa'al, Ba'al Pit, Behind The 8-Ba'al, and of course Paint-Ba'al."

"But you didn't use the wrench!" Siler protested.

"What is it with you and the wrench?"

"Ahem."

Walter spun around. "General Landry! How long have you been there, Sir?"

"Long enough. What is this?"

"Uh, it's a tactical simulator some of the computer guys put together for... stress relief." That sounded far more professional than 'Flash game'.

"Stress relief... hmm. Have you tried reading a book?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then I suggest you try again. And I don't want to see this 'tactical simulator' anywhere outside this base."

"Umm..."

"Walter?"

"Sir, you might want to avoid General O'Neill's office next time you're in Washington," Walter recommended.

Landry closed his eyes and sighed. "I _always _try to avoid his office."


	14. The Report, Buried

Chapter 14 - The Report, Buried

"Walter," General Landry greeted as he stepped into the room.

"Sir," Chief Master Sergeant Harriman replied respectfuly.

"I read your report on... 'Gate Con'. Very creative, Chief."

"Sir?"

"I'm referring, of course, to your embellishments to the painball fight that broke out."

"I was not aware of including any embellishments, Sir."

"Do you really expect me to believe you were taken in by the fanciful tale of 'abnormals', Walter?"

"Sir, the creature I saw could not have been a human in a costume."

Landry sighed. "Did you stop to consider that it could have been a mechanical construct? What do they call that... animatronic."

"No, Sir. I didn't think of that."

"No, you didn't. Instead you fell prey to ideas that had been put in your head in a prior conversation with one of the participants. Try to be more discerning next time."

"Yes sir," Walter answered a little reluctantly. As the general began to leave, he thought to ask, "If you don't mind me asking, Sir..."

"Go ahead and ask, Chief."

Walter wasn't quite sure how to ask without sounding insubordinate. "Do you truly not believe me, or were you ordered not to?"

"I'm not at liberty to answer," Landry replied with a twinkle in his eye.


	15. The Occupant

Chapter 15 - The Occupant

"Incoming wormhole!" Walter announced. He waited for an IDC, but instead received nothing but random noise and... "Uh, I'm getting some strange energy readings. What's..."

"CRRRRRRRRK." Something seemed to push against the iris.

"Something seems to be pushing against the iris!" he announced redundantly. "But that shouldn't be possible!"

"RRRRRRRRRRRRP." The iris strained and started to bulge outward.

"No, I can't be seeing what I think I'm seeing. Nothing material can exist in the wormhole to push against the iris..."

"VVVVRRRRRRRRRRRT." The trinium alloy creaked and vibrated. "SSSSHINK." A few segments unwound slightly.

"Defensive teams stand by! We may have iris breach!"

"CRRRRRRTHOOOOOM!" The stressed iris flew to pieces under the stress. The few guards remaining standing after the hail of metal shards opened fire.

Something pink pushed its way out of the naquadah ring. It moved it small increments, stretching forward, and gripping the stargate and ramp with a multitude of spike-like hairs on the segments of its shiny body. Dozens of rounds of ammunition ploughed into the creature, but it continued without slowing noticeably. Soon enough of it had entered the gateroom that it could thrash about and knock down the remaining defenders.

"Code magenta! Situation whiskey tango foxtrot! The gateroom is being attacked by what appears to be a giant earthworm! Standard firearms appear to have no effect!" Walter announced as efficiently as he could manage.

"CRASH!"

"Uh, now the _**Control Room**_ is being attacked!" Walter pressed the trusty blast-shield-lowering button...

Nothing happened. "We have a blast shield malfunction! All personnel to the control room immediately! Bring all the giant worm killing weapons you can possibly carry!" Walter hollered, starting to panic.

"SMASH!"

"Control room breach! It's coming for me! I repeat, it's after me! It's aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrgggurgle..."

-

Fortunately, Walter awoke before the situation grew any more dire.


End file.
